Making Friends
by elbcw
Summary: A newly commissioned Porthos tries to fit in, but only one man shows friendliness towards him. When Aramis needs Porthos' help, will he return the favour? ***Hopefully it is correct now***
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Porthos looked around the courtyard, some of the other Musketeers were sparring with each other. He wondered if he could join them. As a newly commission man he wanted to try to join in with the others, he needed to find his place amongst the men. The other three men who had been commissioned at the same time as him seemed to have managed to fit in easily. Two of them were sparring with some of the longer serving men.

He wandered over and watched for a little while hoping that one of the other watching men would ask him to spar. Nobody asked. Porthos was finding the transition from infantryman to Musketeer a little difficult. He knew some of the men resented the fact that he had been handpicked by Captain Treville. Porthos had not had to serve time as a cadet he had not had to work his way up. There were not many Musketeers who were handpicked. Most had to present themselves with a letter of introduction and hope the Captain would let them become a cadet.

The other thing that went against Porthos was that he was the only man amongst them whose skin colour was different. His skin colour was not uncommon in Paris, there were plenty of Parisians from an assortment of places. He was unusual as he was French and not a foreigner who had settled there. Some of the other men were wary of him, he was used to that, but sometimes he felt lonely because of it.

And then there was his upbringing, he had told a couple of the men early on that he had lived for a number of years in the Court of Miracles. As that particular piece of information had filtered through some of the men had taken to actively ignoring him or collecting their belonging together as he went passed. Did they really believe he would steal from them?

The sparring continued. One of the longer serving men, Aramis, had sauntered over. The man did not seem capable of walking, unless he was on patrol. He sort of arrived at his destination with a grace that some woman would envy. Aramis was the only one of the men who seemed either oblivious to Porthos' background or uninterested in it. With a winning smile, Aramis nodded towards an open space and drew his sword. Porthos smiled, for the first time since walking into the garrison courtyard that morning. He drew his sword and began to spar.

MMMM

Aramis found the behaviour of his comrades annoying. The man he was sparring with was a capable soldier, he had taken part in several battles and had the scars to prove it. Aramis could think of several of the other Musketeers who came from areas of Paris that were just as bad as the Court of Miracles. And the snide remarks he had heard about the man's background had nearly landed him in trouble with Treville. The Musketeer who had made the comment was still sporting a black eye where Aramis had punched him. Porthos had not even been around at the time.

Porthos was skilled with the sword his blows were hard and calculated. He seemed to be able to predict each more. Aramis found it hard work, which was good, he thought. They were evenly matched. The other sparing men had stopped. All eyes were on them. Aramis enjoyed the attention.

'Come on Aramis,' shouted one man.

A few of the others cheered him on as well. It annoyed Aramis that no one took Porthos' side. Aramis knew he had to lose the fight, but it had to be convincing. If they suspected he had lost on purpose it would make matters worse for Porthos. And if Porthos realised Aramis had let him win the man would not be appreciative.

As Porthos continued to press forward, Aramis shuffled back a little. Luck was on Aramis' side, the sun, high in the sky would blind him if he took another couple of steps back. Any competent swordsman would know not to put themselves in the position of being blinded by the sun. Porthos was pressing his advantage, Aramis pretended to tire and shuffled back again, the sun hit his eyes. Porthos swung his sword, Aramis missed it with his parrying dagger.

Aramis had enough confidence in his opponent to know that Porthos would not actually hit him with the sword. At the last second Porthos twisted his wrist causing the flat of the sword rather than the blade to make contact with his arm. The force was still enough to cause Aramis to stumble to the side and fall to the floor.

There was no cheer, a couple of the men said 'well done,' but the rest wandered off, disinterested. Aramis pushed himself over onto his back and rested on his elbows looking up with squinted eyes towards Porthos who looked quite pleased with himself. He stepped forward and reached out his hand. Aramis took it and found himself hauled to his feet with ease by the broader man.

'Sorry,' said Aramis, 'you managed to push me back enough to be hit by the sun. Very clever.'

'To be honest, I hadn't realised,' replied Porthos.

'I think you would have had me anyway, your sword strokes are brutal,' Aramis rubbed his arm for effect.

'Are you hurt?'

'No, bruised pride perhaps. We will have to have a rematch at some point.'

Porthos looked up, Aramis followed his gaze. Treville was watching them from the balustrade, leaning forward. When he saw them both looking at him he indicated for them to go up to him.

Aramis walked toward the Captain's office with Porthos a couple of steps behind. The new man seemed a little worried to be summoned by his Captain. As they reached the Captain he held out a sealed letter. Aramis took it and read the address.

'I want you two to deliver that for me. There's no need to wait for a reply, it shouldn't take you more than a few hours you can be back here before midnight.'

'Yes sir,' said Aramis.

Porthos nodded to his Captain. As they turned to leave Treville stopped Aramis. Porthos carried on walking and made his way towards the stable.

'Thank you for letting him win that,' said Treville quietly.

Aramis smiled as he replied, 'I don't know what you mean sir.'

MMMM

Porthos was determined that although the mission was a simple one he was going to make sure it was carried out properly. He still felt that he had to prove himself amongst the other men. His small victory over Aramis, one of the original Musketeers, would go a long way to earning him a place amongst them, but he needed to do more.

They had left the outskirts of the city and were trotting towards their destination. Aramis was talking, almost constantly. The man had an uncanny way with words, he had maintained a conversation between them for some time. But the conversation was not really about anything. He was remarking on their surroundings one minute then enquiring about which taverns Porthos liked to visit the next. Porthos found he enjoyed the lighthearted talk. Aramis was friendly and seemed to hold no ill will toward anyone. Porthos realised if he could become the man's friend he would go up in the estimations of the other men. Porthos wondered if that was what Aramis was doing, giving him a way into the inner circle.

Porthos was grateful to the man, his friendly overtures were genuine. They did not seem forced. Aramis was interested in Porthos and his background, he was fascinated by the workings of the Court of Miracles. When Aramis intimated what his own background entailed and what his own mother had been, Porthos could understand. Aramis was not of noble stock, he had probably had to work hard to become the respected soldier that he now was.

As they rounded a bend in the road they found themselves confronted by four men blocking their way. The thick tangle of trees on either side of the road meant that the Musketeers could not simply ride around the men. There was no choice but to engage with them. Porthos allowed Aramis to take the lead.

'You appear to be blocking the road gentlemen,' Aramis said, 'is there a problem?'

Both Musketeers had their hands on their guns. The guns ready to fire.

One of the men stepped forward. He was a big scruffy man in his forties.

'You're outnumbered,' he said.

'We are Musketeers,' replied Aramis.

'You're still outnumbered.'

One of the other men was staring at Porthos. Porthos glared back.

'Since when were they allowed in?' asked the second man nudging the skinny man who stood next to him.

The skinny man looked at Porthos with distaste, 'don't know, perhaps he's a servant to that one,' he said nodding toward Aramis.

Porthos did his best not to react, he was used to the abuse, but it still annoyed him. He had learnt to carry on as if it was not happening. Most people would give up if they did not get a reaction from him.

'Do you own him?' asked the fourth man, a young man who barely looked old enough to be away from his parents.

Aramis pushed his horse forward a couple of steps. Porthos glanced across at him and was surprised to see the man looked extremely angry.

Aramis addressed the first man who had spoken, 'if you are to lead a group of men, you should teach them not to speak out of turn. Get out of our way.'

'They ain't talking out of turn, soldier, they're making a valid point. He's takin' away jobs from people.'

The leader of the four men looked at Porthos as he spoke.

'He is people,' replied Aramis, with barely disguised annoyance, 'he is French and has probably served his country with more loyalty than the four of you have in your little fingers.'

Aramis seemed to have pushed the men too far, Porthos could see they were ready to fight. He felt he ought to say something but was not sure what.

The leader of the four gave a signal. The men rushed forward.

MMMM

Aramis was fuming. He had seen what small minded bigoted people could cause. One man could foist their opinions on others and those opinions could soon be seen as fact.

As the men rushed forward he pulled his gun from its holster and shot the second man who had spoken in the chest. The man looked surprised for a moment before stumbling back and collapsing to the ground. The leader of the gang did not react to the death of his friend, he continued to surge forward, grabbing Aramis and pulling him from his horse. He landed heavily, but managed to push himself up. Before he could properly stand he was grabbed by the big man from behind. The man wrapped his arms around Aramis, pinning his arms to his sides. Aramis could not reach his second gun or his main gauche. The man squeezed his arms tightly. Aramis felt as if he was being crushed by the vice-like grip. He was struggling to take a breath.

One of the other men approached them. Aramis realised the skinny man intended to stab him, a dagger ready in his hand. With no other way to defend himself, Aramis pushed off the ground with both feet and kicked forward at the advancing man, knocking him away.

The big man holding Aramis staggered back and fell to his knees pulling his captive down with him. Before the man could dictate how they landed Aramis managed to push back so that the man was under him. He kicked back with the heel of his boot into the shin of the man's leg.

The pain caused the desired effect. The big man loosened his grip, Aramis rolled away from him and managed to raise himself up on his knees, pulling his main gauche as he did so. Before the leader could start to rise Aramis had pushed the dagger into the man's chest.

A sharp searing pain in his leg saw his vision blur for a moment.

MMMM

Porthos was aware of Aramis being grabbed by the leader and kicking the skinny man. But he had his own battle to win. The youngest of the four men had rushed forward and slapped Porthos' horse causing the beast to rear up, unseating its rider. Porthos landed awkwardly, he knew he had hurt his ankle and would probably not be able to bear weight on it.

Pushing the pain away Porthos pulled his main gauche, he was not in a position to draw his sword. The young man was already on him. In the second it took Porthos to force the dagger into the man's gut he felt remorse for taking a life. The young man probably knew no different. He probably thought that robbing passers-by was the only way to survive.

The young man's only response to the mortal wound was to splutter a little blood as Porthos pushed him away. Blood stained the man's doublet as he weakly clutched at the injury before going limp.

Porthos did not have time to do more than glance at the dead man before he was distracted by a gunshot. He looked over to Aramis who had managed to kill the leader but been shot by the skinny man as he tried to get up. Aramis had collapsed to the ground, landing sprawled on his front. The Musketeer was weakly trying to push himself over onto his back, but appeared to be struggling.

Porthos pushed himself up, pulling his gun as he did so. He raised the weapon and fired. The skinny man, who had been calmly walking towards Aramis, his sword drawn, crumpled to the floor, a neat gunshot wound through his eye.

Aramis, who seemed to sense that the danger had passed collapsed back to the floor. He was breathing hard as he lay on the ground. Porthos could see the man's face. Aramis had clearly been injured and was in a lot of pain.

MMMM


	2. Chapter 2

Authors note: There's medical stuff, I'm not a medic. It's all leant off the telly box and from reading all of your far superior fictions. I love you guys.

Chapter Two

Porthos tried to stand but found it impossible, the injury to his ankle meant that he could not bear weight without causing himself immense pain. He resorted to crawling on his hands and knees to Aramis. The injured man was still lying on his front, his eyes screwed shut. He was breathing fast.

When Porthos reached out to him he flinched away a little.

'It's alright it's me, they're all dead,' said Porthos.

Aramis managed a nod, before trying to push himself over onto his back again. Porthos shuffled around to the man's side and helped to turn him. Once he had turned Aramis over he pulled the man back a little to lean against him. Aramis still had his eyes closed and appeared to be trying to calm his breathing. His right arm was stretched out toward his leg. Porthos looked down and saw the darkening stain across Aramis' breeches.

Aramis had been shot in the leg. Porthos realised with a sinking feeling that he would have to deal with the injury.

'How bad is it?' he asked.

'Don't know…' panted Aramis, 'sit me up...so...I can...have a look.'

Porthos did as he was told. He knew that Aramis was a field medic, so knew what to do with gunshot wounds. He wondered if Aramis would be able to deal with his own injury.

Once Aramis had managed to open his eyes he leaned forward slightly with a wince and pulled the fabric of his breeches aside to reveal the wound. He felt around his leg, pausing for a moment before withdrawing his hand and leaning back against Porthos.

'The ball's still in there...you'll need to cut it out, it's close to the surface.'

Porthos was shocked at the suggestion.

'Cut it out? You want me to cut your leg open?'

Aramis nodded before shifting away from Porthos to look at him. Aramis was pale and still panting. He looked at Porthos quizzically.

'Haven't you dealt with a gunshot wound before?' he asked, the pain clear on his face, 'you've been in battle.'

Porthos looked away for a few seconds before replying.

'Yes, but big battles, with surgeons and medics. Medics who aren't the ones getting shot...I...used to keep away from the injured men.'

Porthos felt ashamed at having to admit to being squeamish. Aramis looked a little shocked at the revelation. He did not reply for a few seconds.

'If you don't help me, Porthos, this is likely to get infected…' said Aramis. Porthos could tell the man was trying to sound calm.

Porthos nodded, 'I'm sorry. Of course I'll help you, but you'll need to tell me what to do.'

Aramis looked around, 'can you get me over to that tree, I can lean on it. You need both hands and I need to be able to watch what you're doing.'

Porthos nodded again and was about to stand when the pain in his ankle caused him to wince.

'Are you injured?' asked Aramis, as he grabbed Porthos who had swayed a little.

'Hurt my ankle, don't think it's serious.'

'Get your boot off before the ankle swells too much,' said Aramis with concern.

Porthos was surprised at the way Aramis was showing more interest in him and his injury than his own at that moment, despite his own being far worse.

After Porthos had pulled his boot off, he helped Aramis over to the tree. He had to drag the man causing him to moan in pain a few times at the treatment. Both men were panting by the time Aramis was settled.

'Get my medical bag, from my saddle bag,' said Aramis once he had calmed his breathing again.

MMMM

Aramis had talked men through dealing with injuries before. But never his own. He was in pain and knew the chances of him passing out were high. He would have to make sure Porthos understood what he would have to do. After the ball had been cut from his leg he doubted he would be able to stay conscious long enough to talk the man through stitching the wound.

He managed to rip his breeches open enough to give Porthos enough access to the wound. As Porthos was hobbling back to the horses Aramis undid his weapon belt and pulled his sash loose. He tied it around his leg to act as a tourniquet.

Porthos settled down next to Aramis who unrolled the assortment of tools he had in his medical bag. He pulled out the sharp knife they would need to cut the ball out and reached for the needle and thread.

'I ain't stitching you up…'

Aramis looked up. The man sat next to him had a shocked expression. He looked like he might be sick, just at the thought of stitching his leg.

'Can't we just put a bandage on it?'

Aramis shook his head, 'it will bleed too much. It will need stitches. I won't be able to do it myself. I'll probably pass out when you cut the ball out.'

Porthos looked terrified. Aramis realised he was going to have to deal with his wound another way. A way he did not look forward to. But if Porthos was refusing to stitch the wound it would have to be cauterised instead.

After a few seconds of staring at each other Aramis nodded.

'Gather some dry wood and start a fire then.'

Porthos looked a little confused but did as he was told. Aramis watched him. He was a little surprised that this fierce soldier was squeamish at the sight of blood. Surely he must have seen injuries or been injured when he lived in the Court. And to have managed to steer clear of injured men on the battlefield was quite an achievement. But Aramis would not hold it against him. He just hoped Porthos would come through for him over the next few minutes. His life depended on it. But he decided not to tell the man that.

MMMM

Porthos was not afraid of blood, he just did not want to get near it. He was worried he would make Aramis' injury worse, what if he cut too deeply or in the wrong place? And as for stitching the man's leg, the idea of pushing a needle into a living man was terrifying. At least Aramis had acquiesced on that, he wondered why he had to build a fire. Was Aramis cold? He was shaking a little, but that was probably due to the fight and the injury.

'I could go for help?' he suggested as he started to feed the small fire he had created next to them.

'You can barely stand, I doubt you could mount up and you won't be able to walk to the next town, it's too far,' replied Aramis, who seemed a little annoyed at him, 'I'm sorry, but you have to do this.'

Porthos turned back from the fire and looked at Aramis. The pale man looked worried. Porthos did not blame him.

Aramis spend a few minutes talking Porthos through how to cut the ball out of his leg. He had explained that the ball was not deep. Aramis had taken Porthos hand and placed his fingers over the ball so that he would know where it was. Porthos could feel the small metal ball under Aramis' skin. Aramis had told him it was important to remove the ball and any small bits of fabric that had been carried with it into his flesh. Pothos concentrated hard, taking in all the instructions.

When Aramis leaned forward and put the blade of his main gauche into the fire Porthos wondered what he was doing. When Aramis explained, he could not hide his shock.

'You want me to burn your leg?'

'Yes, as you won't stitch it, it will need to be cauterized, the wound will bleed too much. Porthos, please, I've already lost some blood...I'd like to keep as much as possible.'

For the first time since he had known Aramis the man actually looked apprehensive, perhaps even scared. Porthos realised his reluctance to deal with the injury had left Aramis worried for his survival.

Porthos nodded firmly, 'I'll do it all, as you've described, but you can talk me through it.'

Aramis shook his head, 'I'll probably pass out. But there's also a good chance I'll fight you. You need to be forceful, I'd rather you didn't, but if you have to, knock me out.'

Porthos stared at him again. He could not imagine having to be so violent with the man who had shown him so much patience and stood up for him before the fight had begun.

'Please Porthos. I don't want this to get infected. Please do all the things I've asked you to.'

Aramis sounded concerned, he was worried that Porthos would not be able to complete the task. Porthos was determined not to let Aramis down.

MMMM

Aramis was taking shaky breathes as Porthos began to clean the wound as he had been instructed. He would have to clean the cut after he had extracted the ball as well. If Aramis' reaction to the first lot of cleaning was anything to go by the man would not enjoy the process.

'Check where the ball is again before you cut. Cut firmly and, please, only once,' said Aramis who was trying to sound calm.

Porthos readied himself to cut the flesh of Aramis' leg. As he pushed the knife in Aramis tensed up, holding his breath. He had bitten down on his weapon belt but still moaned in pain as Porthos began to pull out the ball. Porthos glanced up, the injured man has his eyes screwed shut again, his head back against the tree.

After removing the ball Porthos poured water over the wound and then the small bottle of spirit. He was a little shocked when Aramis screamed and tried to push him away. Remembering what the man had said about fighting him Porthos leaned across Aramis and pinned him back against the tree. His efforts to push Porthos away grew weaker.

Porthos looked back, Aramis had not passed out but he looked very unfocused. Porthos looked at the blade in the fire. With a shaking hand, he pulled it out and held it over the wound. He hesitated. He could not deliberately burn Aramis, it just seemed so wrong.

Without warning, Aramis leaned forward with a hiss of pain grabbing Porthos' arm pressing it and the blade down onto his leg. Aramis screamed again but held the blade where it was for a few more seconds before he went limp. Porthos remembered what Aramis had said and made sure the blade remained where it was for long enough.

When he was sure he removed the blade and turned, Aramis had slumped to the side slightly. Porthos straightened up the injured man, feeling guilty for forcing him to deal with the injury himself.

MMMM

Porthos looked about him. They were alone, they were, as Aramis had pointed out too far from the nearest town for him to get them help and the road was a relatively quiet one. They had not been expecting to meet any trouble as they travelled along it.

He looked down at Aramis who was still unconscious, the man had started to come around but had not fully woken. Porthos wondered what state he would be in. He imagined Aramis would be in pain. The thought of what he or rather they had done to deal with the injury made Porthos shudder. He felt ashamed for not being able to deal with it. The man had been almost on the point of begging him for help and he had still hesitated. If Aramis had not forced him to but the hot blade on the wound Porthos might not have been able to do it.

What little ground he had made towards being friends with Aramis had probably gone. The man would not have appreciated Porthos' behaviour. Porthos had been in battle, he had killed people, why was helping a fellow soldier who was in need so difficult for him? It was true he had managed to avoid helping the surgeons in the battles he had been in. He had always wanted to be in the thick of the action. But perhaps he had missed a vital part of soldiering. It was more than getting the upper hand over the enemy. Each soldier had a duty to look out for his fellows.

As he went about dressing the wound to Aramis' leg he knew that although he was sure any chance of being friends with the man had gone he would apologise for his actions. That was the least he could do.

Aramis was the first man in the garrison who had shown a genuine interest in him. The first man who had talked to him, to have had a proper conversation with him. Porthos owed the man an apology.

MMMM

Aramis slowly opened his eyes, he groaned as the pain in his leg reminded him what had happened.

'It's alright, stay there,' came a familiar voice.

Porthos, thought Aramis, he had taken a bit of persuasion but he had done what he needed to. With luck, the wound would not become infected. Although Aramis still wished it had been stitched rather than cauterised.

'Do you want to sit up? I've got some water.'

Aramis managed a nod as he began to focus on his surroundings. Porthos was looking at him. The man looked very worried.

'What's the matter?' asked Aramis, realising his words were a little slurred.

He allowed Porthos to help him to sit up and take a drink. It took the man a few seconds to reply.

'I'm sorry,' he said.

Aramis stared at him with confusion. What was the man sorry about? Without him, he would have died, bled to death on the ground if the robbers had not run him through first.

'I shouldn't have hesitated, I should have been able to deal with your injury.'

'But you did deal with it.'

'Only because you did most of the work...I wasn't prepared for your reaction to the pain it caused.'

'Cauterising a wound really hurts,' replied Aramis.

'I realise that now. Why didn't you say?'

Aramis sighed, 'because you had refused to stitch it and that was the only other option. And I didn't want to put you off that as well.'

Porthos looked a little shocked, 'you didn't tell me on purpose?'

Aramis nodded. Porthos was quiet for a few moments.

'You didn't have to defend me against those men,' he said looking down as he spoke.

Aramis laid his hand on the other man's arm as he replied, 'of course I needed to defend you. If they were insulting me, would you have let them?'

Porthos shook his head with a smile.

'Good, I will always defend a brother soldier. That's what we do. And as for you struggling to deal with my injury, we can soon sort that out.'

'How?'

'In a more controlled environment. Next time someone gets an injury at the garrison, you can assist me in sorting it out. That way you can get used to it. This was a rather literal baptism with fire,' said Aramis with a chuckle.

He was pleased to see Porthos laugh as well.

'Thank you...I thought you might have been angry that I found it...difficult.'

'Angry? No,' said Aramis, 'surprised, yes.'

They sat in silence for a few moments before a thought occurred to Aramis.

'And anyway, if I hadn't antagonised the robbers we might have kept the upper hand and I wouldn't have been shot and left you in a rather difficult situation.'

'Are you suggesting this is your fault?'

Aramis smiled, glad to see Porthos relaxing a little, 'yes. And as an apology, I shall be buying you dinner when we get to the next town.'

'How are we going to do that, since neither of us can walk?'

'Believe it or not, my friend, this is not the first time I have been in a similar situation,' said Aramis with a smile, 'between us we can mount up, you will help me up and then I will help you up behind me and we shall, painfully, make our way into the next town.'

Aramis watched Porthos look around at their horses which had not wandered very far. The man still looked concerned and guilty about the incident. Aramis knew he would have to work on the man to get him to accept that it was not his fault.

'How is your ankle?' he asked.

Porthos seemed to have forgotten his own injury, he looked down at his foot.

'It hurts a bit, not as much as it did, but I've not put any weight on it for a bit,' Porthos replied.

'In my bag, there should be some bandages, I'll strap it up,' said Aramis as he sat himself up a little straighter with a wince.

Porthos pulled the bag closer before shuffling himself around so that Aramis could deal with his ankle. He watched carefully as the man wound the bandages around his foot and ankle. When Aramis had finished Porthos looked surprised at how much better his ankle felt.

'Thank you,' he said as he reached for his boot.

Aramis chuckled when Porthos hissed as the action of pulling the boot back on caused him pain.

'We are quite a pair,' he said with a smile, 'Treville will not put us together again after this…'

Porthos lost his pained smile instantly.

'What's the matter?' asked Aramis with concern.

It took Porthos a few seconds to reply, he looked slightly embarrassed.

'It's just, I was hoping we would get to do more assignments together...you're the first man in the garrison who's been...genuinely friendly towards me.'

Aramis smiled sadly. He hated to see the new Musketeer looking lost and worried.

'I'm sure we will get to have more fights with robbers,' he said, 'I'm sure you will get more opportunities to inflict pain on me whilst you patch me up.'

Porthos nodded slowly, 'I'd like that...not the hurting you part, but the taking on robbers part.'

'Good, now, for our next adventure, let's try to get to the next town,' said Aramis.

Aramis knew Porthos was going to become a good friend. And he hoped he could be a good friend in return.

The End.


End file.
